


Black Box

by reen212000



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e09 Aurora, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reen212000/pseuds/reen212000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Aurora was gone, but Atlantis needs proof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Box

**Author's Note:**

> I was sifting through some old fic, and I found this. Coulda sworn I posted it somewhere, alas it was nowhere to be found. So here it is...

Title: Black Box  
Author: reen212000  
Summary: The Aurora was gone, and Atlantis needs proof. Tag for Aurora.

\----------------  
Finally, he sleeps. The colonel has had a headache for the last two days, and thinks no one notices. When we fled the _Aurora_ , Sheppard had disappeared for hours on the Daedelus. I think maybe that gene of his gets the better of him sometimes. I wonder if he felt anything on that ship like he feels Atlantis.

This time, his headache is so bad that he’s actually let me fly the ‘jumper. Somehow, he had convinced Elizabeth to let him return to Aurora’s last position. But as we got closer, the headache got worse, and he nearly passed out. Now he’s slumped over in the next chair looking pale and uncomfortable. I told him to lie down on one of the benches, but does he listen to me? No. Of course not. He better not complain about a stiff neck. Seriously.

Where was I? Oh yes. The Ancient gene. Annoying thing about one’s DNA, and the often annoying race that created fantastic machines and weapons that could only be operated by them. Useful in a time of war, however, ten thousand years later, an instruction manual would be nice.

The Aurora was an amazing ship, and to have sustained an entire crew in stasis for as long as it did, speaks of the genius behind its engineering. Sheppard’s encounter with the battleship left him moody and distracted. The last two days, he’s been inconsolable and grumpy. Very grumpy. I won’t even pretend to know what happened or why he may be feeling this way, but I do know sometimes his interaction with Ancienty things is not always good.

Ancienty? Great. Now I’m using his stupid word.

I only agreed to come along on this futile journey so he wouldn’t crash into some random planet. Don’t know why he’d want to come back; I’m sure there’s nothing out here but debris. Sentimental reasons, probably. Collect some burnt, twisted metal as a momento or something. Instead of dog tags, he’s got a piece of blown-up ship. Whatever.

There’s absolutely no survivors, so—

“Rodney?” His scratchy voice cuts through the white noise of my thoughts. Great. Now he’s awake and he’ll be even more grumpy.

“Yes?”

“We’re here.”

“What do you mean we’re here? There’s nothing out here.” Has he finally cracked? “Sheppard –“

“Just slow dow. I’ll take over from here.”

I can still see he has a headache; his eyes are barely open, and he’s got that little line between his brows. “Fine.” I try to sound irritated, but I think I might be worried. I dunno. Kinda feels the same.

He sits down heavily in the pilot’s chair, bringing up the HUD. Just to starboard – no, port – I don’t know! I’m a scientist, not a sailor! Anyway, there’s a blip. “What’s that?”

A small smile lights his otherwise dull eyes. “Just what I’m looking for,” he says quietly. I watch as he moves a shaky hand over the control console. Can he not take care of himself? Carson is going to have a field day with him when we get back. If he can pin the colonel down, stun him, and drag him down to the infirmary. Those damned eyes. A minute ago, they were a greyish green. Now, they’re a vibrant green, with the kind of intensity that lets me know he’s up to something. Along with the eyes comes that stupid grin.

I hate that grin.

“What are you talking about?” I ask. The feeling I’m being sucked into a black hole is never far when I’m with him. As Carson would say, I feel like I’m being snookered. Well, he probably wouldn’t since he’s Scottish – do they play snooker in Scotland? I’ll have to –

I digress.

“... scoop it up, I guess.”

What is he talking about? Is he – “Are you collecting space trash?”

The smile hasn’t left his eyes as he turns to me. “It’s not trash, Rodney.” A beep captures his attention. “Well, that’s interesting.”

See? Crazy. I’m not sure I want to know what’s going on in that brain. I can see him thinking through his headache, and it’s giving me one.

The bulkhead doors close, and he deftly manuevers the small ship. Thankfully, there are inertial dampeners; otherwise I would be in a bad way. The colonel steers around the debris – God, I hope none of this is organic – nevermind. 

Glancing back at the pilot, I see his eyes are closed. Sheppard is flying with his eyes closed. Again. He knows I can’t stand when he does that, and I know he’s doing it to spite me. “Could you stop that?”

The colonel just smiles and releases the controls. “I got it!” he says breathlessly. As he rises, the door opens quickly.

A large object sits in the middle of the floor, twisted and burnt. Somewhere near the center of it, a blinking light glows blue. Sheppard kneels down stiffly next to it, waving his hand slowly over the chunk of metal. Like magic, the twisted, melted debris falls away. A smooth, irridecent object defies the artificial gravity of the ‘jumper, and floats over to Sheppard’s waiting hands.

“I’m not cleaning up this mess when we get back,” I say. More like whined. And I admit that. How do I always get stuck clearing away his messes?

Sheppard mumbles something that I am certain is not English, and the blinking light becomes steady, reflecting in his glassy eyes.

“Okay, Colonel. Time to get you back.” Carson is going to yell at me. I can hear that brogue getting thicker by the second.

“Mmm. ‘kay.” He stands unsteadily, and I direct him to the co-pilot’s chair. Placing the object on his lap, he sinks into the chair taking a deep breath. “’m tired.”

“No kidding, Sheppard.” I watch him closely as I slip into the pilot’s chair. His eyes are closed, and I can see his pulse hammering at the base of his throat.

“Would you stop staring at me?”

I smile inwardly. “Just checking to see if you were still alive.” Grabbing the controls, I steer the ship towards home listening to his slow, even breathing.

\-----------------------

When I land the ship, Sheppard’s still asleep. The hatch opens, and suddenly both he and the object come to life. Again he gives me The Smile, stands and shoves the object under his arm like a football. He walks briskly off the ship. “Let’s go show Elizabeth.”

Just like that, he’s gone, jogging out of the ‘jumper bay. I want to call Carson, but what would be the point. Seriously.

As I hit the last stair to the floor of the Gate room, he’s already in Elizabeth’s office. When I enter, Sheppard is talking a mile a minute about the object.

“Slow down, John. What do you mean by black box?” Now she’s got the little line between her brows.

“I’m pretty sure this is the Aurora’s final mission log.”

“Well, if it is, how are we supposed to view it?” I ask, trying to ignore the glint in his eye.

“Over here,” Sheppard replies as he dashes out of the office to a console. “Atlantis was pretty specific about which one to use. I think–”

“Wait!” Both Elizabeth and I shout, trying to get him to stop. I hate when he gets like this. And we all know how Ancient tech and Sheppard don’t play well together sometimes.

Ignoring us, he takes a deep breath and waves a hand over the console. “Okay, so a couple nights ago, ‘Lantis wakes me up – did you know I had a HUD in my room? Anyway,” Sheppard says conversationally as he adjusts the display several times. “The HUD shows me where to get this.” For visual effect, he holds up the cylinder.

“Okay, but why does Atlantis need this?” I have to ask, risking the rolled eyes I’m likely to get.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he focuses on the console. Push another button. Another wave of the hand. Then he smiles. A panel slides open with just enough room for a cylinder-like object. The HUD suddenly changes, showing a group of people standing on the bridge of the Aurora. This was the captain’s farewell speech.

“I’ve never been more proud than I am at this moment. It has been an honor serving with you. And although we may not return to Atlantis, rest assured that the Aurora will be remembered–”

The transmission cut off; we all know what happened next. In vivid detail. I glance over at Sheppard, whose eyes are suspiciously wet, as are Elizabeth’s. A lump has even formed in my own throat, which I force down. The final words of any leader is depressing; and were these the last of the living Ancients?

When the message ended, Sheppard waved a hand over the console once more. The cylinder ejected, and again floated up to his hand. At least this time he had the decency to look embarrassed. “Their whole mission, up to the Wraith sabotoge, has been copied into the database.”

“Too bad we don’t know if there are more ships. I’m sure the Wraith have wiped them all out.”

“They’re here,” Sheppard said quietly. With a wave of his hand, the HUD changed, showing a list of ships and access points for their logs. Aurora was the next to last to report. “Two are still missing. Maybe they were completely destroyed? Maybe captured?”

“Possibly.” I cross my arms, staring at the last names. Hippaforalkus – whatever that is – and the simply-named Tria. “What if they’re still intact somewhere?”

The colonel shrugged. “What if we find it? Or if they find us?” He handed over the device to me. I can tell by his expression he doesn’t like the idea of giving up his new home.

Neither did I.

\-----------------------  
The end.


End file.
